


in this moment’s silence, as the war is raging

by stevebuckiest



Series: the sub steve book club [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bed & Breakfast, Birthday Presents, Body Image, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Dirty Talking Bucky Barnes, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dresses, Gay Steve Rogers, Gift Giving, Insecurity, M/M, Pillow Talk, Post-Coital Cuddling, Power Bottom, Secret Relationship, Service Top, Sharing a Room, Steve Is Sort Of A Mess, Sub Steve Rogers, Switching, Teasing, Top Steve Rogers, Wartime Romance, its only mentioned in passing but it is IMPORTANT
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29954484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest
Summary: They might not have been able to do much for Christmas or Valentine’s Day, but they had done something. Steve is going to make sure they get to do something again in a few days. If they had met back up on a different date closer to being able to celebrate Steve’s own birthday, he knows Bucky would be doing the same.Albeit with probably a much different method, but then again, Steve is a different man.(alternatively: steve + a uso dress = 1 very happy birthday for bucky)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: the sub steve book club [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891096
Comments: 7
Kudos: 67





	in this moment’s silence, as the war is raging

**Author's Note:**

> somehow i accidentally cemented myself as being a Bottom Steve Writer when really i am a Sub Steve Enthusiast. there’s nothing wrong w having preferences BUT even people with preferences on position can still switch it up without having to change the other dynamics of what they do <3 steve and bucky in my mind are prime examples. so: here is something new for bucky’s birthday! something a little special. i hope you enjoy.
> 
> p.s. a cummerbund is a sash that goes around the waist. in this case, a corset without the strings.

Growing up, the doctors didn’t have much faith in the idea that Steve would make it past his twentieth birthday. His health was as poor as he and his mother were back then. Medicine might have been ineffective at most and downright _harmful_ at worst, but the cost of it also wasn’t cheap. Bad back, bad heart, bad hearing, bad _everything-_ every year Steve’s birthday hit, the main celebration wasn’t the day. It was mostly just the fact he hadn’t _died_ yet. 

That’s not to say they hadn’t done anything for it. Being on the Fourth, his birthday was still somewhat of a spectacle for everyone else even when he and Sarah’s finances couldn’t stretch to do much on their own. Steve wasn’t really popular enough for birthday parties, but Bucky always came over- if not just to spend the day with Steve, but also for the soda bread pudding Sarah almost always managed to put on the table no matter any cuts in pay. There weren’t many real presents outside some penny sweets and the odd pack of pencils or paper for his sketching when he got older, but his Ma did her best to provide. Bucky, even at a young age, did his best as well.

Even in the years Steve didn’t get any real presents, Bucky pulling him out to the fire escape of his building so they could watch the fireworks over the water was always good enough. He’d actually believed Bucky’s lie that they were always for him from ages about seven to ten, which is something Bucky still hasn’t stopped holding over his head even almost fifteen years later. 

On Bucky’s own end of birthdays, he typically had more room to work with than Steve. The Barnes were always a bit better off than Sarah was able to make sure she and Steve were as a single mother. But, seeing as they too were living in the Depression with _four_ children rather than one, that didn’t always mean their money divided between the kids amounted to much. Bucky was the oldest and tended to tell his parents to save things for his little sisters anyways. 

He still usually got a cake, though, and under more positive conditions, a celebration dinner Steve was always invited to. Sarah, too, if her shifts allowed it. Winnie and her were about as fast friends as Steve and Bucky were as first. Steve has more than a few fond memories of watching them cook together in the kitchen. 

He was never jealous that Bucky’s birthdays tended to be more joyous than his own, but he was always a bit bummed he couldn’t get him better presents. With little to no spending money, some comic books and sketches were all that he could usually scrape together. Eventually after their friendship finally transitioned into what had been simmering since Steve was sixteen, they were able to partake in more _enjoyable_ events to celebrate. But even then, Steve always wished they were able to do something more. Something more _special_ than just sketches and sex- though everything with Bucky always was (and thankfully still is able to be) special. 

It’s just sometimes… Steve’s always been someone who strives to do more. Even now that he finally has the chance to _be_ more. 

But apparently, _being more_ had come with the price of having to spend his birthday alone for the first time since he was twelve. Bucky’s family had been on vacation while Steve was stuck at home. It wasn’t a very fun birthday. Unsurprisingly, neither is his twenty fifth, seeing as he spends half of it onstage in tights with Bucky halfway around the world going through god knows what on the front. 

At that point, he’s only had the serum for about two weeks. Twelve days, actually. He’s in an unfamiliar body surrounded by unfamiliar faces doing unfamiliar things. He’s still not sure what’s going on or if he’s ever going to get to serve the way he signed up for. He’s still not sure Bucky’s ever going to make it home. 

Needless to say, it’s not a good day. After the USO show lets out and the song and dance ends, he spends the rest of it all on his own. There’s no presents or cake in sight despite the fact he could probably afford it. There are fireworks, but when he watches them without Bucky by his side, they only make him feel more alone. 

As much as the glamour and glitz of all the newfound fame he’s gotten could go to his head, that loneliness he feels on his birthday doesn’t let up for the next four months. It only gets worse as the shows grow bigger until eventually the burden of it is heavier than the goddamn motorcycle they start making him lift with all those showgirls sitting on it over his head. 

It’s ironic, in a way. With the serum, he’s now taller than ever, but half the time he still feels like he’s in so far over his head that if he doesn’t swim, he’ll drown. All the red white and blue they’ve decked him out in has definitely come with an amount of responsibility he hadn’t fully been expecting. When he and Bucky reunite, Bucky is definitely a bit mad at him, and Steve can’t even really blame him. He doesn’t regret his choices- how can he when it’s what had kept Bucky alive?- but there are moments where he’s well aware he’s bit off more than he can chew. 

It’s bordering on closer to five months with the serum when he finally catches up to Bucky in Italy. It’s even closer to five months in measuring the time he’s spent without him- when Bucky had left, Steve had been twenty four and he twenty six. He’s still twenty six when Steve rescues him, but with all the aging he seems to have done at Azzano, it feels like he somehow should be more. Steve isn’t the only one who has seen some changes. 

With Bucky back, all the loneliness he’d been saddled with beginning on his birthday lightens up, but the burden of being Captain America doesn’t. Bucky helps with that, thankfully. Even with Steve’s big new body, he still seems stuck on taking care of him best he can, be it that they’re back in Brooklyn or battling in a warzone with Steve leading the charge. 

Considering Bucky’s birthday is tomorrow, Steve thinks it’s high time he starts trying to take care of him too. 

He now knows what it’s like to have to spend your birthday alone and unhappy, and he is _not_ about to let Bucky have to settle for nothing or go through something similar. He’s already been through enough with all the torture and trauma of what the war has tried to take. Bucky hasn’t let them have to settle for any of the other holidays they’ve been trapped over for, so why wouldn’t Steve try and do the same? 

They might not have been able to do _much_ for Christmas or Valentine’s Day, but they had done something. Steve is going to make sure they get to do something again in a few days. If they had met back up on a different date closer to being able to celebrate Steve’s own birthday, he knows Bucky would be doing the same. 

Albeit with probably a much different method, but then again, Steve is a different man. 

Though if someone more judgemental walked in right now, they might question or not whether he’s a man at all- which is pretty stupid, if you ask Steve. So what he has a dress in his hands? They had him dolled up on that stage in shorts shorter than any of the skirts Steve had seen on the queens back home. Just because he _wants_ to wear something a bit daintier in his down time doesn’t mean anything disparaging at all. Maybe he should be used to the backwards ideas people have about the type of relationship he has or the circles he used to run in, but that commonality doesn’t make them any less dumb. 

He knows this. But knowing that also doesn’t make _him_ feel any less dumb while he does this- all those pesky ideals people have tried to drum into his head are sometimes hard to handle. It’s a good thing Bucky has always said he has a thicker skull than anyone else he’s ever met. 

_This_ is hiding in his and Bucky’s (unofficially) shared tent, halfway stuffed sitting on the patch of ground behind his cot, body bent into the same shape his spine used to be in while he sews up the skirt of the USO dress he currently has lying across his lap. He’s hunkered down in a way that is making his shoulders ache, but he’d rather need a massage than end up being court martialed for cross dressing while in the military. 

The only one who tends to come in his tent without stopping to knock on the pole or at least pause to say they’re coming in is Bucky, but with stuff like this- it’s better to be safe than it is to be sorry. If he ends up getting caught, it’s Bucky that Steve would feel sorry towards the most. The older man has spent far too much of his life living with the fear of losing him. 

This morning Bucky is busy with a briefing, one for a mission last night Steve hadn’t been invited to go on as they needed a sniper and not his shield. Steve doesn’t like those sort of missions where they’re separated. He knows Bucky can more than take care of himself with how he’s been out here longer than Steve has even had the serum, but Steve still worries. Somehow, knowing he _could_ have gone with him and didn’t is almost worse than being left at home. 

He suspects Bucky will head to the showers after the meeting is over to get cleaned up, so that should give him a good hour left to finish trying to let out what little hem this dress seems to have left. He ends up stabbing himself with the needle not two seconds later and curses, sucking the finger into his mouth to keep the pinprick of blood that bubbles up from smearing on the material. He’s a lot more used to sewing up tears in his trousers and holes in Bucky’s henleys than he is to trying to learn how to alter a dress. Hopefully he can figure out how to fit into it for the leave he’ll be taking for his best guy’s birthday. 

They’re lucky that the Colonel had said yes. In all fairness, it _is_ the first legitimate time off they’ve asked for since coming over. And it’s not like they’re actually going home. They’re in France for the time being, and while they aren’t close enough to push going to Paris, there’s a small town that their current camp is located southwest to having set up after marching in from where they were stationed on the Austrian border. Steve just wants the weekend, maybe even just the night. Bucky’s birthday is on a Friday- and Steve only needs a few hours at a hotel, he thinks. He’ll take whatever he can get. 

Colonel Phillips had given them both permission yesterday to spend some time in town under two conditions- the rest of the Howlies stay here in case of emergency, and Steve still looks over the strategy papers they had drafted up this morning. That’s also what he’s supposed to be doing right now. It had been more than a bit awkward asking the rest of the guys to give up their weekend just so Steve and Bucky could go live it up, but once he had disclosed it was about to be Bucky’s birthday, they’d been more than happy. 

“Find a girl and give her a kiss from me,” Dugan had said, clapping Steve on the shoulder before stepping away to go do god knows what. With how he smelled, hopefully take a shower. “At least two of our gents ought to get laid.”

“Leave some for the rest of us, Captain Rogers.” Dernier had followed right behind him. “And make sure to get some _real_ rest.”

The ribbing had made Steve go red in the face, but he had made sure to nod and try not to look too suspicious. He has a small inkling that maybe Morita or Gabe know what sort of thing he and Bucky get up to in their spare time, but that doesn’t mean Steve is about to disclose something so explicit. Even if he does sort of wish that their men knew that he and Bucky will (hopefully) be getting laid with exactly zero ladies involved. 

It’s a little funny that all the fellas seem to think he’s some sort of womanizer when really he hasn’t ever been with one, and frankly, doesn’t feel like he’s ever going to want to. Bucky might go both ways, but Steve’s always had a one track mind- even when it comes to his attraction to men. Not that anyone knows that but Bucky. Hell, with all those double dates, the only reason Steve wanted one of those women to like him was to prove that one of them _could._

The tales of his conquest with the USO tour girls and stories spread by those who had spoken to Lorraine or seen Peggy prowling towards him in the pub all those months ago are about as fictional as the comics and films he had starred in while his rap as Cap was still starting out. Steve had definitely gotten up close and personal with the women in the service in one way or another, but it was more through changing in crowded spaces with them and doing up their dresses than it was through taking them to bed. 

Sure, having so many women in his face still got him flustered- especially when they started fixing their faces up in nothing but their knickers on particularly hurried nights- but that was more about the attention than anything. Formerly, no woman had wanted to even look at him, let alone touch his hair or compliment his eyes the way some of the USO girls had. They were nice girls, nice _people._ Just not exactly the type of person Steve prefers. Peggy is included in that, though he’s still not sure how to tell her. 

That’s a problem for later. Right now he still has to finish sewing up this damn skirt. 

Even aside from the shock someone might have from seeing Steve hold a dress meant very obviously for _himself_ rather than his sweetheart or his… girl, it’d probably be a surprise to some people that he can sew at all. It isn’t _man’s_ work, as the boys in their schoolyard used to say when they saw where Steve had put patches on his pants. 

Well, Steve had grown up the only man in his house besides sometimes Bucky, and Sarah Rogers was a patient woman, but she was not one to be trifled with. Steve wanted to keep tearing up his clothes by getting into fights? Then he could fix them himself. At least, that's what she told him right before sitting him down on the couch and setting about teaching him how to stitch his first straight line. He’s gotten pretty good at it by now, if he does say so himself. 

A small sewing kit had been one of the few things he took with him from Brooklyn to basic and then on the tour. It’s a good thing he brought it, too, because that damn shirt they stuck him in split the shoulder seams more times than he can count. The thing had been a bit of a tight fit with how broad the serum had made him up top. 

But his waist… hopefully with all the hemming and hawing he’s done with this dress today, he can work something out in making sure he can make his way _in_ it. 

Half those stories about his sexual escapades that had come after the USO tour probably actually came from all his peeping at them after they got their outfits on, but it wasn’t really about the _attraction_ so much as the _admiration._ Steve’s an artist. He has eyes, ones that even work well enough to see in full color now. He can appreciate something on someone else without wanting _them_ so much he wants what they’re wearing on himself. 

Even if his new body is making that a little harder than it might have been before. 

He swears a second time and pulls his finger out of his mouth, drying it off on his pants leg before getting back to work on trying to loosen up the garment as best he can. He’s making do in a war zone with what he has, so it's not much of a difference. But it’s enough to manage. Whatever they do always has been. 

He’s careful not to let his injured finger touch the fabric. Some of the USO dresses may have had red stripes, but the dress he’s got isn’t one of them. That’s something he can’t quite complain about, though. He’s not supposed to have this dress at all- even outside of just considering society’s standards. 

Laws about sodomy aside, he’d probably get into hot water just for having swiped the dress in the first place. But in his defense, it sort of was an accident. Sort of. 

When Peggy had found him that day in the rain after the show for the remaining 107th that had resulted in him getting tomatoes thrown at him (which was a waste, Steve thinks. Good produce and provisions at all are pretty precious over here), it had taken about fifteen minutes of awkward talking for her to get to the revelation that Bucky’s unit had been captured. Needless to say, Steve had been caught off guard- horrified, even. 

There he was sitting in a pair of tights while Bucky was out there probably trapped. Probably being tortured. Probably in _pain._ Peggy hadn’t had the amount of information he needed to stop worrying, so he went to the Colonel. And when that didn’t go well, he went back to his tent, determined to hell that he’d just have to do things himself. 

_Doing things himself_ required clothing not made out of spandex and shoes that weren’t designed only for the stage. Hell, he’d barely gotten to the USO’s dress tent in them without slipping in the mud- but he’d managed, and as soon as he’d gotten in, had gathered up the nearest duffel bag and started stuffing everything he thought he might need inside. Extra shirts, extra socks, an extra pair of pants, even an extra belt in case his might break. 

He didn’t have a plan yet or even a clear state of mind. What he knew his goal, and that was to get to Bucky. Real boots and a leather jacket were more likely to get him there than a cowl and some tights. Since he hadn’t taken much time to change, (a good thing considering how quickly Peggy came to find him) the tights had stayed on under the pants and his stupidly tight show shirt underneath his coat. The cowl had stayed at camp, though, as had the shorts. He’d ended up swapping the first for one of the show girl’s helmets to take on the road- but that hadn’t been the only thing he’d taken. 

Like he said, picking up the dress was sort of an accident. Some girl must have changed between the show and supper, tossed it on top of his things rather than hung it on its usual rack, and as a result… he’d been grabbing things fast enough not to look before taking them in hand. The dress had been no different, though making the decision to stuff it into his duffel bag definitely was. But in the end, he did it anyway. 

He could lie and say it was a split second choice, but Sarah didn’t raise a liar. Nor did she raise a thief, though Steve sorted all that out in his head by the time the dress was safe inside his bag. They could always get a new dress back home, he reckoned. And it wasn’t like they didn't always have spares with how many shows they did where one of them (besides Steve) split a seam. 

Frankly, Steve is still afraid he’ll make the damn thing split a seam now, and since he isn’t supposed to have the dress to begin with, there's definitely no spares lying anywhere around. He’s just lucky he didn’t tear it after taking it in the first place considering what the rest of the clothing went through at Azzano. The relief of saving Bucky from that hellhole (and making it out himself) overshadows the sadness about ruining his jacket, but that doesn’t mean he’s overjoyed that it’s gone, either. Especially when he remembers just how uncomfortable those uniform coats they make them wear are (although he _does_ appreciate how good Bucky looks in one). 

He’s not sure the dress will be any more comfortable. The All-American getup they’d actually given him to wear on stage wasn’t bad save for the boots, but not wearing underwear in it was embarrassing as hell. The “built in briefs” the blue shorts might have held his boys in place but it sure didn’t make him feel secure. 

Holding the dress up to assess the hem he’s spent the last twenty minutes letting out, he’s pretty skeptical he’ll be able to wear his underwear under this either. He’s not sure what would make him feel more stupid- the sight of his shorts hanging out from under the hem or running the risk of his dick doing the same. If he was a woman who wore women’s underwear, this would be easier. But then again, if he was a woman, he wouldn’t have to _worry_ much about wearing this dress at all. 

He sighs and lowers the dress back down to his lap, idle fingers skating over the fabric while he considers the realistics of the situation he’s set himself up to be in. Does he really think he can fit in this thing? 

It’s backless, so how broad his shoulders are thankfully isn’t a problem, and as he said before- his waist won’t be _too_ much of an issue he doesn’t think. The ratio of his body really is a bit ridiculous with his back being so big and then his waist so slender in comparison to the rest of his size, but the serum seems to have a funny way of working with things like that. It shot him up ten inches but couldn’t bother to put some hair on his chest? 

He’s not too mad that he can skip a few days without shaving but he _is_ getting a bit sick of Bucky teasing him over it every time he leaves the tent with his own kit to take care of the stubble that’s sprung up on him overnight. Only a bit, though. And he doesn’t _have_ to bring that up anytime soon. It’s about to be Bucky’s birthday, after all. Steve needs to hurry up with his sorting out the surprise for it before Bucky comes back and ruins it for himself. 

It’s with that thought in mind that he takes in a deep breath and sets his needle and the knife he’s been using to tear seams to the side, up on his cot so they won’t get lost in the dead grass and dirt underneath him. Then, smoothing out the edges of the skirt with his (uninjured) fingertips, he stands up on slightly unsteady legs and shakes out the dress a second time so he can lay it over top his pillow and start to pull off his fatigues in order to try it on. 

He tries to be fast about it so the chances of someone catching him are low, but that only causes his hands to fumble with the hurry and it ends up likely taking him even longer than it should have in the first place. It’s the sort of thing Bucky is always scolding him for, even now that he’s no longer small. Steve pretends to hate it, but it’s one of those stupid things Bucky still does that he has a soft spot for somewhere deep inside that almost no one else gets to see. 

Fussing at him when he never folds his clothes after taking them off is another one of those things, but Bucky isn’t here so Steve doesn’t stop to do it. Instead, he tosses his shirt on the cot and kicks out of his boots to lower his pants and underwear to leave them in a heap next to his still sock clad feet. Then, taking in a deep breath, picks up the dress to try and do the opposite. 

The operative word being _try._ He still has no idea if he’ll be able to slide the thing on, but with it being almost Bucky’s birthday… he has to suck it up and at least attempt and do something special for him. Lord knows Bucky deserves it after all the hard days he’s had over here. 

The cummerbund and attached belt that wrap around where his midsection is supposed to go are still stuffed under the bed in the duffel holding all the stuff Steve doesn’t want anyone else to see- namely their slick, his prophylactic kit, and the still sullied USO uniform from the last time they got to spent a good amount of time alone. He really needs to wash it soon, but he’s more worried about something catching them than he is about stains. The dress is currently clean, at least, and that’s what really matters. 

While they come in a wide variety of color combinations, the USO dress Steve had swiped is one of the white ones, so maybe he won’t have to worry so much about stains. It’s not completely white. The lapels of the top are blue, as are the stripes on the skirt, and cummerbund is red to match the gloves meant to go with the outfit, but Steve hadn’t managed to grab those when he made the rushed choice to take the dress. That’s okay, though. His own USO uniform came with a pair, but he doesn’t plan on wearing them tomorrow anyways. He wants his hands on Bucky’s skin, soft and firm and _alive._ He wants to feel Bucky and he wants Bucky to feel him too. 

He has more than a few other things he wants to do and have done to him too.

But first- he has to make sure the dress fucking fits, which requires him to actually get in it. He takes in another deep breath and makes the self determined decision to man up and do just that. 

Making sure the zipper for the back is open, he raises the first of his legs and steps it inside through the circle of the skirt, lowering it down feeling dizzy despite the fact this body is almost never off balance. Something about the moment feels significant. The feeling doesn’t let up when he does the same with his other leg, and it’s only when he’s got both feet back on the grass that he feels like he’s grounded. 

He hasn’t done something like this since Brooklyn. Since he had a closet that had a door and wasn’t so easily walked in on. Even then, dressing up in clothing that wasn’t _supposed_ to be meant for him (outside of their apartment, anyways) wasn’t something he did often so much as on occasions he wanted to feel better about not feeling at home in his body at all.

He felt that way back then most because he was scrawny and sick, but even big and strong, he sometimes feels the same. This isn’t fully about that or about _him,_ though, not this time around. As big as this feels doing it his own, it’s something he’s mostly keen on sharing with Bucky. Steve’s gonna be the best damn birthday present he’s ever had. 

He takes the spread out sides of the dress’s top in both hands and begins pulling it up his body, for once glad that the serum left his lower half slender in width. His ass is… a different story, but it thankfully isn’t too difficult to pull the dress up over it until the skirt is settled over his waist, stomach pressed against the silky soft material

And now comes the harder part. The top of the outfit. Seeing as this isn’t made for a man, let alone a man of his size, the upper half is a bit more difficult to navigate. He takes a second to utter out a quick prayer before beginning to pull that up next. It’s more out of habit than actual belief, but it’s the thought that counts, right? Being _thoughtful_ is why he’s doing this in the first place. 

He thinks that this particular dress must have belonged to a woman who was particularly curvy, because it ends up fitting almost embarrassingly well considering he isn’t supposed to be someone with the actual tits to fill out the top. He can see his blush going straight down the vee in the front when he swallows, red stark against the white of the bust and blue of the lapels. There’s probably a joke in there about the whole American flag motif Captain America has made him somehow pick up in everyone else’s eyes, but Bucky isn’t around right now to make it, so Steve lets it slide. 

There’s even some extra room up top where his chest doesn’t protrude as far, and he sighs out in relief, smoothing a hand down the front of it so the fabric covering his torso can lay flat. He’d been worried it might be long enough, but while the waist lays a _little_ too high above his hips when he fastens the halter top- it’s manageable. He hasn’t zipped it yet, but it feels pretty good. He feels like _he_ looks pretty good. 

He can’t see his face currently, but Bucky is always saying him wearing blue brings out his eyes, and paired with the way the white works with how rosy his skin gets when Bucky makes him go a little loopy- he really hopes the zipper doesn’t make this whole birthday gift gag a bust. He’s gotten his hopes up that he can give this a go. 

He takes in a deep breath and takes a second to see if anyone is outside his tent, a last precaution before he fully puts himself in a position that might become a problem if anyone else sees. Fastening himself into this thing means taking it off will take more time that someone (probably _Bucky)_ barging into his tent would give him. But, the less time he spends putting it off, the less time he’ll have to risk having that happen. 

He purses his lips and reaches behind himself to where the backless design of the dress has the zippered section positioned right over where the swell of his ass starts. It’s definitely a bit awkward being naked at the same time he’s trying something so vulnerable, but he couldn’t have his underwear bunching up beneath the dress and ruining his test for tomorrow. 

He’s had this body for nine months now, but his hands still shake when he starts to raise the zipper up. He’s nervous, even if no one else is here to see this. He’s not exactly sure why, but he does have his suspicions. 

Grabbing the dress had been an accident, but if he’s telling the truth, taking it had been very much intentional. And again, Sarah Rogers didn’t raise a liar. 

He took the dress half so he and Bucky could have something to look forward to when they came back and half for self affirmation that he was _going_ to get Bucky back safe in the first place. He stole that last second when Peggy wasn't around just to give himself the confidence that when Bucky did come back he would have something to show him that even through the hard times, some things stay the same. And Steve belonging to him, mind, body, and soul is one of them. He loves Bucky on his birthday and every other day of the year. 

Handing himself over to Bucky the way he’s planning on at the hotel tomorrow is always something special, whether he’s in a star-spangled dress or star-spangled suit. Maybe it’s stupid to see it as some sort of symbol for hope despite all that they’ve been through, but every holiday they still have to spend over here is hard on them whether Steve wants to say it out loud or not. He knows it and Bucky knows it too. Bucky always takes care of him. Steve just wants to do the same, and he knows he doesn’t need a dress to do that, but it would still be _nice._

 _Here goes nothing,_ he thinks. He takes in a deep breath and sucks his stomach in. It’s the same thing he’d always seen his mother do to squeeze into her ten year old Sunday best back in their shitty apartment when Steve still went to church. It’s a bit oddly nostalgic in a context as charged as this, but while Steve isn’t a woman, sometimes little stuff like this just serves to remind him that he misses his Ma so much he could cry. 

About two seconds later, he wants to cry for a completely different reason when the cheap zipper he’s been so worried about making work slides up only to catch at the teeth of the track two inches from the top. His anxiety wasn’t for naught- he can’t zip it up. All the damn work and worry over the damn the dress and he can’t zip it up. 

Fuck. _Fuck._ He feels like curling up into a ball in the corner of the tent he’d crouched down in to sew, as if that’ll make him feel like he’s not too big to wear the stupid fucking dress for Bucky’s birthday. 

He’s also feeling exposed all the sudden, even more so than being naked under the skirt makes him. It shouldn’t be such a big deal to him. It _shouldn’t,_ especially when this whole process is about Bucky and not _him-_ but something about it hurts, and he’s so deep in thought about it that he almost doesn’t notice that his hour is up and Bucky’s coming into the tent until it’s too late. 

He manages to at least toss on the rain coat draped over the chair sitting next to his makeshift desk given to him to draft mission reports on, but that doesn’t stop Bucky from giving him an odd look when he steps inside. Steve understands, even if he’s feeling so uncomfortable he wants to die. He supposes wearing a raincoat inside your own tent when the weather outside is relatively warm and sunny does look sort of suspicious.

Bucky’s hair is still shower damp, freshly scrubbed skin where he’d shaved his neck clean as red as the blush spreading down Steve’s throat to disappear under the raincoat undoubtedly is. He raises his eyebrows. Steve tucks the coat closer around him. 

Bucky must see he’s feeling cagey, because his voice is intentionally calm when he speaks. “I was going to see if you wanted to step outside for a smoke, but if I’m interrupting something…”

“I-'' Steve might not have asthma anymore, but he still has to gulp down some air before he can say anything. Even then, he doesn’t really have an explanation. “I was changing.”

Bucky’s mouth goes crooked in what looks to be amusement. He sits in the chair Steve had just grabbed the jacket from and looks at Steve expectantly. “Into a raincoat?”

Steve feels himself flush even more, if that’s possible. He’s very aware of just how naked he is under the dress and just how much of a mess he is under the coat. He’s still mad at himself that he can’t get it to fit, but Bucky doesn’t need to know. It’s not like Steve wants him to ask. 

But he does anyway, because Bucky knows Steve maybe even better than he knows himself. “What are you hiding, Stevie?” 

Steve freezes and tries not to tilt his head in the way he knows is a tell for when he’s not telling the truth. “I’m not hiding anything.” He crosses his arms across his chest with his hands tucked to his sides like he’s hugging himself, and it’s so unconscious he can’t curse himself until it’s too late. That’s always been a tell too. 

Bucky hums and looks him over head to toe, seemingly having picked up on the self comfort. Steve has to fight to keep his feet from turning in. He knows he looks like an idiot like this- socked feet and bare legs showing out the bottom of where the jacket hits just below his knees, hands poking out of the too long sleeves… he probably looks like a little kid playing dress up in his dad’s clothes. 

He had actually asked for the ARMY provided raincoat in a size up than what he probably should have taken, but crossing his arms isn’t the only self comfort tactic he has. He’s so used to wearing Bucky’s hand me downs that donning the oversized jacket was dumb enough to help Steve feel like some small piece of Bucky was there with him. Tight clothing feels weird anyways. He never wore it before the serum, but everyone sure seems to like sticking him in them after. 

That only serves to remind him of the too tight dress he’s currently got on under said too big coat. He wants to cry again, but he can’t, not with Bucky looking at him like that. 

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong, cowboy, or am I gonna have to tussle it out of you?” Bucky still sounds amused, but slightly concerned as well. Steve tries to stand less stiffly. Bucky isn’t having it when he sees trying to hide. He never does. “Steve, if something is bothering you and you won’t tell me what, I can either assume it’s me and leave, or _you_ can just tell me the truth and I’ll try to leave it alone.” He strokes a hand over his face where his stubble is nearly trimmed and looks thoughtful. “Or we can, you know, actually _talk_ about it.”

Steve sighs, shoulder slumping down. He hates when Bucky badgers stuff out of him, but he also knows when he has to give in. He’s stubborn, but he isn’t so stubborn he can’t let Bucky see him. Still… “It’s stupid.”

Bucky’s smile turns up even more and he snorts. “So are you.” Then, like he’s telling Steve a secret, “I’m pretty used to it by now.”

Steve huffs and removes one hand from around his midsection to make sure his hair stays out of his face. “Jerk.”

Bucky just laughs and reaches out a hand like he’s inviting Steve to come over. Turns out, he is. “C’mere, punk.” He pats his lap. “Tell ol’ Bucky about your problems.”

Scowling, Steve shakes his head at the exaggerated tone and almost refuses, but when Bucky shifts in his seat and pats his lap again, he relents because he can’t resist. He walks over, arms still crossed over his chest, and stands awkwardly next to the chair. He wanted to be over here, but he’s not sure what comes next considering he’s still half naked under his coat. Still upset, too.

Bucky seems to want to talk about that with how intently he’s looking at him. He laces their fingers together and pulls Steve closer. “You know I’ll get it out of you eventually. You really want to drag this out?”

Steve looks down at his socks, sighing when Bucky squeezes his hand in an attempt to spur him forward. “No,” he admits, stomach tied up in knots. “But if I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise.”

Bucky’s lips twitch, eyes softening. “You have a surprise for me?”

“I was supposed to,” Steve says quietly. “But it seems like this new body of mine has sorta fucked with my plans.” He’s tempted then to spill to Bucky about the conditional leave they’ve gotten- he hasn’t actually told him yet. That was supposed to be a surprise to be revealed later tonight in time for them to have a preemptive celebration. It’s not too late in the afternoon yet, but Steve wishes _this_ wasn’t the cause to tell him. 

“Your body, huh?” Bucky murmurs. He uses his other hand to scratch under his chin, the familiar skritch of stubble on skin soothing Steve the slightest bit. “This one's been giving you trouble now too?” He’s teasing, but Steve still nods. 

It’s with a clenched jaw and cut off words when he speaks. “Different kind, but… yeah, I guess so.” It sounds softer than he meant it to, but he guesses that’s how he feels. Somehow smaller than ever but still like he’s taking up too much space all at once. 

This damn zipper. He doesn’t know why he’s making it such a big deal. 

Bucky’s palm is rough with the callouses from his rifle, but his voice is soft as the silky skirt still brushing against Steve’s skin where he can’t see. “Hey, sweetheart. I’m your guy. I’ve always got you.” He stands up suddenly so they’re eye to eye. “Which means you can always talk to me too.”

Steve inhales and closes his eyes as Bucky crowds in and cups his cheek with his free hand. Their faces are only inches apart so Steve is quiet when he answers into the small space between them. “I just don’t want to bother you.” He smiles a bit sadly. “It’s almost your birthday. Should be about you, not about me being a crybaby.”

“Yeah?” Bucky says lowly. He leans forward until their lips touch in a chaste kiss. He mutters out his response a moment later with their mouths still pressed together. “Well since it’s _my_ birthday, I guess that means I get to let you cry if I want to.”

“It’s not your birthday _yet,”_ Steve protests, but Bucky just pouts and kisses him again, this time firm enough to make Steve’s head go fuzzy. That just isn’t fair- but then again, Bucky has always fought dirty when outside the ring. “Buck…”

“Baby…” Bucky croons back, hand on his cheek sliding down to curl under his chin instead, squeezing gently until he goes in for a third kiss that’s three times more intoxicating than the last. Bucky Barnes is an asshole, a menace, and a tease all at once- a triple threat of a man. 

Steve is hopelessly gone for him. “Promise you won’t laugh?” He doesn’t think he’s going to let him see just yet- part of him is still stubborn enough to try and make this shindig work even if it won’t be exactly in the way he planned. He wants to salvage at least some part of the surprise. 

Bucky rearranges their hands still down by their sides so that their pinkies are hooked together. “Promise, sweetheart. Not even a little bit.” He gives him another quick kiss, this time on the tip of his nose. “You can smack me if I do.”

Steve huffs out a laugh through the nose Bucky just kissed at the attempt to lighten the mood. “So I have to preface this by dropping some news I was _going_ to wait to tell you about later tonight, but…” he shrugs helplessly. “Man with a Plan doesn’t always make a perfect one.”

“Yeah?” Bucky’s thumb strokes over the center of his chin like he's mirroring where the cleft is on his own. “What’s that?” He’s curious, Steve can tell. 

“I kinda asked the Colonel if we could have the weekend off,” Steve says, soft and slow and a little bit shy. Regardless of any other failures, he really is proud of himself for fixing up this for his guy. “You know, for your birthday. And he said yes. We’re supposed to stay at the bed and breakfast by the edge of town, close enough to come back to camp if they need to call us in.”

Bucky’s eyes have gone wide, mouth slightly parted in a way that makes Steve preen despite the shyness. “Stevie...” he gets out, stroking the pad of his thumb over Steve’s lower lip. He leans in and kisses it a moment later, so hard it’s swollen by the time he leans away. “You made sure to set aside a little time for me? Trying to make sure I’ll get to have you to myself all sweet, is that my gift?”

He’s most likely just talking nonsense while they’re kissing like always, but Steve still has to shake his head in slight disagreement. “It’s part of it, but…”

“But what?” Bucky is kissing up on his neck now, dangerously close to where the collar of the raincoat dips down low to expose just how bared he is underneath. 

Steve closes his eyes and lets out a small sigh of contentment at the feeling of Bucky’s mouth moving soft against his skin. “But… I was trying to make sure I had everything ready,” he whispers. “Wanted it to be perfect.”

Humming, Bucky bites down slightly into the side of his neck. It’s not hard enough to leave a mark, but it is hard enough to make Steve let out a tiny moan. “You’re always perfect for me. My best guy, you know that.”

Steve smiles, but it’s tight, and Bucky must feel him tense up because he’s pulling back a moment later so that their eyes meet. Steve has to drop his down before he can answer. “I _wanted_ it to be perfect, but I kinda ran into a problem,” he says, and his voice comes out gravelly, as deep as his heart seems to have sunk in his chest. He hates that he feels like he’s spoiling the surprise and the excitement Bucky is clearly feeling about not having to spend his birthday at camp. 

Bucky’s own eyes follow Steve’s trailing down until they settle somewhere in the center of his chest, and Steve is a little caught off guard by the sudden understanding in them that he sees until Bucky reaches out and brushes where a hint of blue is peeking out of the raincoat’s collar. “A problem, huh?” he murmurs. “And you think it’s one we can’t fix?”

“Unless one of my new superpowers is fighting zippers that can’t close…” Steve jokes, but Bucky doesn’t laugh. He closes his mouth to swallow, then licks his lips nervously before going on. “I told you it’s stupid, Buck. If you just let me change back into my clothes, you won’t have to-“

“Won’t have to what?” Bucky interrupts him, eyes back up on his face again, fixed on his own so intent that Steve snaps his mouth shut again with a blink. _That’s_ always been Bucky’s superpower. “Sweetheart, if you’ve got on what I think you do under there…you think what I’ll care about is the _zipper?”_

Steve feels redder than any color fabric he’s worn in the last year at how bluntly Bucky calls him out. “Uh-“

 _“That’s_ what’s stupid,” Bucky interrupts again, but it’s good natured and gentle. “If you’re feeling a little insecure, that’s a problem I can help solve, but if you don’t realize if I’m not looking at the front, I’ll be looking at your ass… I love you, but that might make you a lost cause.” He puts a hand on the back of Steve’s head and uses it to pull him down so he can smack the top of his head with a kiss that still causes him to crane his neck. “Moron.”

Steve barely resists the urge to bury his head on Bucky’s shoulder. He doesn’t know how he thought he could hide when Bucky always sees through him, this time straight to the damn dress underneath. “I love you back, you jerk _.”_

Bucky smirks, and that’s when Steve knows the surprise hasn’t really been spoiled. He still has a few extra tricks up his sleeve that Bucky taught him how to use. “How about you _jerk_ this jerk, big guy? You think that you can handle that job?” He takes Steve’s hand and holds it over where Steve can feel stiffness growing underneath. 

See? A menace, an asshole, _and_ a tease. Christ. Steve needs to be careful before he really does risk staining his skirt. 

He still is going to give in to Bucky’s crooked grinning, though. Of course he is. Bucky’s other superpower has always been to boss him around when they’re like this, but Steve still has a clear enough head to make one last request. “Let me change and clear off the cot first?”

Bucky steals one last kiss, lingering against his lips after like he isn’t going to get another chance at giving him one in less than five minutes. “What, I don’t get a sneak peak at my surprise? _C’mon,_ Steve.”

Steve groans and gives Bucky a gentle shove to the shoulder, careful of the strength he carries that he still isn’t completely sure of. “Buck,” he complains. “ _You_ c’mon. It’ll only take a minute.”

“I’ll still miss you,” Bucky counters, but he’s backing away a second later, still wearing that same shit eating grin he always does when he knows he’s about to get laid. He looks hungry enough for it that Steve almost delivers a line about them going to get lunch instead. 

“Sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be back.” He groans at the lazy salute Bucky gives him, but makes sure to throw a tiny one back, and that’s the last there is between them before Bucky exits the tent to wait outside. Steve can hear him singing under his breath even from behind the flaps. Frank Sinatra, he thinks. 

Bucky’s always had the habit of picking up a tune when he’s happy- Steve always takes extra time to cherish the sound when he gets to hear it these days. He knows exactly how awful it is to not hear Bucky humming. After Azzano, there had been nothing but silence for weeks. It had taken a lot of time for them to get where they are now. 

Steve is thinking about whistling a tune himself while he shucks out of the raincoat and reaches around to lower the zipper on the back of the dress, but as cheered up as he is… he’s still a little sad things didn’t go according to plan. He’s going to wear it anyways, but he thinks he’s going to have to tweak things that this time aren’t limited to only the hem. 

He’s got a few tricks up his sleeve saved up, but he’s not going to turn them right now, not when Bucky is bustling back inside after Steve calls out that he can come in to do that same type of thing himself. They aren’t really _tricks_ if Steve is willingly falling for them, but still. He’d fallen for Bucky a long time ago. It only makes sense he does that for him down onto his shitty cot as well.

Bucky climbs up to lay beside him, and they’re likely lucky the cot doesn’t find cause to break, but that doesn’t stop the older man from rolling on top anyways, elbows planted outside Steve’s biceps to box him in. The motion makes him feel the same sort of safety Bucky taking care of him always has stirred up inside. Steve sighs as Bucky leans down, soft kisses placed up the column of his throat and to the corner of his mouth. It’s a line of teasing almost as bad as the verbal one that is next spoken out. 

“Know you took the raincoat off, but what's to say we get a little wet anyways?” Bucky says slyly, hips pressing down between Steve’s spread out legs with sordid intention. “How ‘bout it, sweets?”

Steve squints at him with eyes that flutter shut when Bucky pushes his hips down again and pulls out a sigh from him at the same time. Bucky’s awful with it, even during the day. “You make me ruin any of my clean clothes and _you’re_ gonna be the one stuck washing them.”

Bucky just chuckles and kisses his cheek. “Well, you sew up my stuff often enough. I guess I can give a go at washing some of yours.” Then, tugging on Steve’s hair, “I’m pretty used to being on clean up duty anyways.”

Oh, _that’s_ a cheap line. Steve can’t help that he gets a little loopy after Bucky makes a mess of him. He scowls and goes to bat his hand away, but can’t given that the way Bucky’s elbows are placed have his own hands limited in where they can land. He settles on gripping his shoulders instead. “You gonna shut up and put your money where your mouth is or do I gotta do it myself?”

“Mm,” Bucky kisses his other cheek, his smile almost infuriatingly charming. “We’ve never had much money, but you sure have always had a hell of a mouth.” His tone implies he means that in more ways than one.

Steve groans and glares best he can with the blush he knows his face is also sporting. “Says the guy who never stops running his. You’ve got more lines than the damn country has states.”

“Is Captain America trying to seduce me with fun facts about the US of A?” Bucky teases, placing a third kiss onto the tip of Steve’s nose. “What, are you gonna S-show me your O, sweetheart?” The word _you_ is enunciated enough for Steve to know he means the letter as part of his stupid line. 

Ha ha. Steve would sock him for being so smug if he also weren’t so damn _sweet_ when he actually gets to kissing him again. It only gets even sweeter when he slides his hand into Steve’s hair like he’s helping to guide the way he kisses back. Bossy without having to say a word. And people think Steve is the bad one about that just because they see him in the field. Behind closed doors, though… Bucky’s always been one of those people with effortless command. He’s always been charming, and Steve- he’s always been caught up in it, enough to let his usual complaints fade away when Bucky pulls him close. 

They’re close right now on the cot, which is a risk they don’t normally take during the day, but Bucky is fresh off a mission and Steve is supposed to be studying maps, so he doesn’t suspect anyone will disturb them. Even with all the noise going on outside their tent, Steve sure feels at peace. There’s no fight in here at least. 

Steve has had the serum nine months by now, though he’s only been around Bucky for five of them. But even with that, the way Bucky holds him hasn’t changed in any way besides width. The way he looks at him hasn’t been altered at all except in angle. The way they fit together is really no different at all. 

When Bucky reaches his hand between their bodies to unbutton both their pants, how perfect it feels is still the same, and so is the way Steve sighs out at the slide of Bucky’s skin against his own. If it were possible in ways besides the obvious, he’d want Bucky inside him, held so close to him that they never have to climb out. That they _can’t._ Bucky is half Steve’s heart either way, even when they were apart. 

Whether they’re stuck in bunk beds at bootcamp, a cot too close to breaking in the aftermath of a battle, or their shitty shared bed all the way back in Brooklyn- Steve loves him, even when he feels alone. 

He doesn’t have to feel alone now, though, not with Bucky on top of him, hands tucked between their bodies as if to tie them together. He’s not alone. Never really will be, as long as he has this. It’s an ordinary Thursday and they’re both wearing their usual faded fatigues, but somehow it still feels special. Birthday or not, dressed up or not- sharing something with Bucky is always special. 

Maybe Bucky is right. Steve _is_ stupid for not remembering that earlier. But, he remembers it now. And it’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it? Steve is still going to make sure his gift is _thoughtful_ tomorrow, but for now… they’re gonna make it out. Might as well _make out_ with him in the meantime. 

Letting Bucky move their mouths closer, hands fumbling to shove away their clothes as they touch, that’s exactly what he does. 

-

It’s so early the next morning when the truck takes them to town that Bucky gets grouchy enough for Steve to wonder if all this birthday business is really off to a good start. Bucky’s never been a morning person, though. Even aside from the fact they shared a bed back home, he was the one that had to rouse Bucky from sleep at least three times a week to make sure he woke up in time for work. Bucky bitched at him for it about just every time, but it wasn’t enough for Steve to take it to heart. Bucky always made up for it when kissing him goodbye anyways. 

They don’t get to share a kiss this morning until they get to the hotel, having been woken up by a private calling to them from outside their tent. Steve half wonders if that’s why Bucky is seemingly so unhappy- and when he has Steve pinned up against the door of the suite they’re supposed to share not two seconds after they step inside to drop their bags, he’s _more_ than half sure that the answer to that question was yes. Bucky doesn’t waste any time in kissing him, hard and heady. The answer _definitely_ was yes. 

They’re both in their dress uniforms supposedly so they’re fit for the public eye, but Steve is panting so heavily by the time that Bucky pulls away, he feels anything but. Really, he feels a bit debauched. Indecent. All from a _kiss._ Christ, he has it bad for this man. 

Bucky’s got it just as bad for Steve based off of how dark his eyes have gone. Maybe Bucky's birthday _is_ off to a good start- they just had to warm things up a bit first. Steve currently feels a bit hot under the collar himself. 

That problem is solved relatively soon when Bucky gets right to work on taking both their ties off. Steve makes a small sound of surprise when Bucky kisses him again, fingers still fumbling at his clothing underneath their chins. He has to rush to get his words out when Bucky leans back to take a breath. “Buck- we have all day for this, don’t you even want a real breakfast first?”

Bucky’s pupils are still blown despite the fact that seeing as it’s barely ten in the morning, there is _plenty_ of light streaming in through the windows on what is supposed to be his own side of the suite. There’s also a bathroom meant to connect between where Steve’s side is supposed to be, but Steve doubts it’ll see much use considering the Colonel probably only gave them this to be generous under the assumption they wanted to get busy and pick up some girls. They are getting busy, but there are no girls in sight. 

Not that Steve is seeing much at the moment, eyes falling shut when Bucky skips answering out loud in favor of another kiss. But, Steve being Steve, has to try again. He can be stubborn more easily than he can be sweet, and he’s not dealing with Bucky bitching about his empty stomach later when they’re slumped down and sticky in bed. Not even on his birthday. _Especially_ not on his birthday when they finally have more than ARMY rations available to eat. 

“ _B_ _uck._ C’mon, the room isn’t going anywhere. We can at least get some breakfast before we…” The tips of his ears get as hot as the rest of him when Bucky grins, knowing full well Steve still has a hard time saying these sort of things out loud. “Before I give you your presents.” That’s easier, even if he still gets a little bashful because knows what those presents _are._

“Oh?” Bucky perks up at that, suddenly interested in more than just their half undone uniforms. He gives Steve a curious look and quite literally licks his chops. “Presents. Plural?”

Steve would duck his head down if not for the fact it would crack their heads together because of how close Bucky still has him held against the door. He settles for shrugging his shoulders instead, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Maybe Bucky _does_ know about the dress, but that doesn’t mean Steve still can’t be proud about what other cards he has to play. “You’ll have to see, Buck.”

Bucky looks like he’s contemplating badgering him about it, but he doesn’t end up doing that. Instead, he smacks a final kiss to Steve’s temple that requires him to lean up on his toes. Then, because he’s an asshole who would never so easily let Steve get away, he steps backwards and pulls Steve along with him by tugging on his tie. “C’mon, sweetheart. Might as well take a look at the rest of this place before we leave it.”

Steve’s brain very suddenly feels like it’s short circuited. All he can do is swallow and let Bucky lead him, trusting he won’t take him anywhere he doesn’t want to go. If it’s anywhere with Bucky, though, that’s where Steve wants to be. 

Where they end up going first is the bathroom. Not the most glamorous sight to see, but a high step up from anything they’ve had to themselves in the last month. The most recent mission they all went on together required a trek through the woods that took a week and meant the only toilets available were the ground and the only toiletries around some spare paper and a shovel. 

Steve never wanted to know what it was like to step in human feces (even through a boot) but it’s still better than trench foot. He’d rather not have to watch his or anyone else’s toes fall off. And though doing that was disgusting- and squatting in the woods almost worse in terms of embarrassment- they’re at least not dead, and not being dead means they get to have _this._ For once, Bucky’s birthday is also being celebrated for the fact they’re both still alive. It’s bittersweet, but Steve’s still thankful. 

He’s almost as thankful for the sight of the tub they walk in to see sitting in the center of the bathroom tiles. A bathtub. A real bathtub, with faucets and clawed feet and everything. Steve feels cleaner just looking at it. The camp showers are decent, but they have nothing on a good old fashioned scrub. They both took showers yesterday, but Steve has a feeling they’ll end up here somehow before the end of the night. 

For now, he just steps up to the tub and traces his hand along the edge, Bucky now pressed against his back with both hands around his waist. It’s the type of easy domestic display that makes Steve ache for how much easier this sort of thing was at home. They don’t get much room to be together like this anymore, not even as much as their tiny apartment had allowed. 

Tonight, though, they have two rooms. They have all the time they could ask for (all the time Steve _did_ ask for) and plenty of cause to celebrate. 

Bucky gets a headstart on that by taking another second to spin Steve around and kiss him against the door to this room as well. Steve knows he should be saying something about breakfast and getting a move on, but he doesn’t. Not right now. He chooses to relish the kiss instead, soaking up the hum Bucky lets out into his mouth and the feeling of his hand in his hair like a flower in the sun. 

He lets Bucky have it. He lets Bucky have him, and holds him back just as tight. They belong in the moment just like he belongs to this man.

Eventually, Bucky pulls away, and the slick sound their mouths make as they part makes Steve turn red all the way down to what feels like his toes. Maybe it’s because he’s still used to being hard of hearing, but every noise they let out when they’re close like this… the serum made a _lot_ of him sensitive, it turns out. Bucky really likes taking advantage of that. 

He does that now, thumb pressing to the soft spot under Steve’s ear where they both know the touch makes him go sweet, even when he was small. Steve isn’t small anymore, but Bucky still has the power to make him feel that way sometimes anyways. 

Steve tries not to squirm when Bucky shifts his thumb down lower to a spot that tickles instead. “Buck,” he says, trying to turn his head away so Bucky can’t get at tickling him even more- because he will, Steve is well aware. _Asshole._ “Breakfast, remember? I’m pretty sure my room is the same as yours.”

“For it being my birthday, you sure are being bossy,” Bucky says, but he only smiles at Steve’s slightly panicked look and pinches at his cheek with an exaggerated coo that makes Steve scowl instead. “C’mon, I’m kidding.” Then, with a sigh, like he’s not the bossiest bastard on the planet where Steve is concerned, “If you’re _that_ hungry, I guess we can head back down.” 

“Like your stomach didn’t just growl two seconds ago,” Steve grumbles, letting Bucky lean away and stopping with him to fix their ties in the mirror. “I’ve got super powered hearing now, remember?”

“Oh, so _now_ you wanna listen to me?”

Steve side eyes him with a look that’s just as grumpy as he had been on the way over here. “I listen. Sometimes.” He’s stubborn, but he isn’t _hopeless._ He listens plenty, just not when he’s maybe supposed to. 

Bucky snorts and finishes sorting out his hair before turning and heading back towards the door to his side of the suite. “I know you can be good,” he drawls, grinning when Steve’s eyes dart over to him, opened up wide. “But you’re still a little shit. Always have been, always will be.” He smiles and holds open the bathroom door so Steve can step through behind him. “And that’s just the way I like you.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just rolls his eyes and smiles back, shaking his head while they exit their room and start the walk down to where they’re still serving the morning meal on the floor below. The silence is companionable, as is the way Bucky bumps their shoulders together as they climb down the stairs. It’s the same thing he used to do when they went up their apartment steps, and it’s yet another thing that just makes Steve ache for home even while half of that is right next to him. 

By the time they’re sat down at a table across from each other, the ache has eased enough for Steve to order without sounding too melancholy. He gets toast with marmalade and some coffee, waiting (for once) patiently while Bucky gives the waitress his own order of oatmeal and a croissant with a cup of tea. Food is still scarce even over here, so Steve isn’t expecting much, but when their food finally arrives it looks better than anything they’ve had in weeks, so they both dig in without hesitation. 

Bucky skips adding what little sugar he’s been provided into his tea, spooning it over top his oatmeal instead. It must come out sweet, because the noise he lets out around his first mouthful has Steve shifting in his seat and ducking his head to stare down at the table even as he crunched into his first bite of toast trying to think about anything but what he has planned for when they go back upstairs. 

It’s that thinking that makes him snap his head up a second later, feeling every bit as stupid as Bucky is always teasing. Bucky gives him a questioning look over where he has his cup raised. Steve rushes out his explanation the best he can, but not really an _explanation_ so much as a very late “Happy birthday!”

He’s an idiot. All this planning to make Bucky’s birthday special and he forgot to actually _say_ out loud to him what day it is? Christ. 

Bucky just snorts. “Thanks.” Then, nudging Steve’s knee with his own under the table. “My new two year seniority gonna give me any new privileges?”

Bucky being temporarily two years older in the months between March and July isn’t anything new, and it’s not like he isn’t constantly pulling the _I’m older than you_ card already anyways. Still, for the sake of playing along (and because he can’t ever say no when Bucky looks at him like _that_ ), “Guess we’ll just have to see.” Steve’s ears are hopefully only slightly pink _._ He doesn’t need other people to see him get flustered just because he’s hoping once they go upstairs and he puts on his dress, Bucky will let Steve fuck him. 

That’s the second (or is it third?) surprise Steve has stored away. It’s not something _odd,_ but it’s also not something they do _often._ It’s not something they’ve done over here with Steve’s new body at all. For a couple of convoluted reasons. 

For one, plain preference. Bucky’s always been pretty open about his, and that usually results with him on top. As for Steve- well, he might be shyer about admitting to it, but he knows being on the opposite is more his speed, something that used to be quite literal considering the heart palpitations he got when the prolonged movement made it harder to breathe that it would have been on the bottom. But they’re still relatively versatile, even if they don’t switch it up _very_ often so much as occasionally. 

But, it is Bucky’s special day, and Bucky might always be the one bossing things around in the bedroom… but that doesn’t mean Steve can’t do something nice for him like this too, right? Right. The times they’d done it the other way around before had been enjoyable, even if a little bit awkward starting out. Steve just hopes it won’t be even more awkward with him being as big as he is because of the serum. There’s also the dilemma of him still not knowing his own strength, but hopefully that’s something Bucky can help him work around. 

There’s also the second reason, though. And that one is… it’s a bit more serious, because it’s something Bucky _still_ doesn’t like to talk about. It’s been months since Azzano, but Bucky has carried so much with him after that Steve still likes to be careful about what moves he makes. He doesn’t know as much as he wishes he did, but he knows Bucky was isolated. He knows that while he was feeling alone, Bucky _was_ alone, strapped down on a table and tortured for days on end. It’s had more of an affect on Bucky than anyone likes to admit. Even the Howlies were only halfway with him when all of it happened. 

Dugan once made sure to pull him to the side after they made it back to camp and Bucky was busy in medical, eyes serious and mouth set in a grim line under the moustache. “I know you know him better than anyone, son,” he’d said. “But he’s been through things over here you won’t understand yet, and hopefully you never will.” Then, touching Steve’s shoulder, “He doesn’t need you to understand what he’s been through. He needs you to understand _him_.”

Steve took that talk to heart. He’s thinking over the words now over his toast, thinking over it when his eyes meet Bucky’s across the table, and _definitely_ thinking about it as he lets Bucky take him back upstairs. 

Since they have Saturday and hopefully Sunday to spend out in town, Steve doesn’t bother arguing Bucky’s insistence that they get right to it. He’s a little eager to see this through himself, anxiety and anticipation as ramped up in him as arousal seems to be in Bucky. They get to the door they had come out of, but Bucky stops Steve from entering with a hand on his chest. 

“You wanna take your bag to your room so you can go get ready?” he murmurs. His eyes have an understanding in them and Steve loves him for it more than he can say. 

He’s still a bit upset about the zipper debacle from yesterday, and while he believes Bucky doesn’t care… he cares. He’s going to do this regardless, but that doesn’t keep his brain from being a little caught up. Bucky gets that, apparently, and the offer to give Steve some space while he sorts it out is appreciated. 

He takes him up on it, nodding. “Thank, Buck.”

Bucky leans down and hands Steve his duffel with the dress inside it, sweeping his eyes side to side as if to make sure no one is here to spy on them before smiling at Steve and giving him a soft look. “No problem, sweetheart. See you on the other side, yeah?” 

Steve smiles back shyly and shoulders on the bag so he can head towards his door. “See you, Buck.” And with that, Bucky shuts the door behind him and Steve is left on his own. But this time, he doesn’t feel alone. He’s got Bucky close by. 

It’s a comfort that he’s still feeling even when he enters his own room for the first time, taking in a deep breath while tossing the duffel on the still made up mattress and exhaling slowly. If he concentrates, he can hear Bucky shuffling around the other side of the bathroom doors, and briefly, he wonders what he’s doing. Undressing, maybe. Steve wouldn’t mind that, not at all. 

He has to get to that himself, even if he’ll only be putting _a_ dress back on. He’ll just be doing the dress, he thinks. He still has the USO boots and tights that could go with what he’s going to be wearing, but the boots always pinch his toes and the tights don’t really serve a purpose for what he has in mind. 

The shoes the USO girls actually wore with their dresses were a lot shiner, covered in rhinestones with a matching silver heel. Steve didn’t even try to find a pair of those that would fit him- it’s not plausible they’d ever come in his size and he doesn’t like being too much taller than Bucky anyways. The serum already had given him an inch on the older man, but that might also be because Bucky always stands with a slouch out of the habit he used to have trying to make Steve feel less bad about being small prior to the serum. 

Now, Steve isn’t small at all, but he still feels a little that way while walking over to the bed and unzipping the duffel to stare down at the dress sitting inside. He isn’t really small, though. That’s been part of the problem, if not all of it. But, it’s Bucky’s birthday. And he wants to do this. He’s _going_ to do this. 

The moment has come for him to start sucking it up again, and it’s with that thought in mind that he does. He takes a deep breath and reaches down to drag out the blue and white material to lay on the bed in a heap that hopefully won’t add to many wrinkles. Then, comes the cummerbund and belt. _Fuck_ . He hasn’t even tried that on yet- and while he _could_ skip it, he hopes he won’t have to, because it kind of completes the outfit. It sits lower on his waist than the zipper, so it should seeing as his back only becomes broad at the top. Still. He’s nervous. 

Nothing he can do about that until the dress is on, though. 

His hands fumble slightly as he begins to strip out of his uniform, lining his shined up shoes by the edge of the bed and for once making sure to fold (or at least neatly lay out) everything else, including his socks. Walking to Bucky in bare feet may feel a bit stupid, but he sort of doubts that’s what Bucky’s going to say something about. If his attention is on Steve’s feet, Steve might as well just turn around and leave. 

He’s not as rushed as he was yesterday trying things on in the tent where he ran the risk of someone stepping inside to see, so when he slides down his shorts, he takes his sweet time stepping into the skirt to slide that up instead. One foot in front of the other. 

By the time the skirt is settled up high enough on his hips, his breathing is a little unsteady in the way that would have formerly been the sign of an oncoming asthma attack. There’s no asthma here, though. Only anxiety, but that gets better when he thinks about Bucky waiting in the other room, aware of what he’s doing and what he’s going to be wearing when he comes out. 

He does up the halter and smooths down the fabric over his chest the same as yesterday, taking the time to do the same with the skirt today as well. It’s a bit more wrinkled than what would have been worn on stage because of being stuffed in the bag, but Steve doesn’t suppose that matters with what else he’s about to do with it- they’ll be lucky if there’s any salvageable material left at all. The front is still a bit loose where his pecs don’t quite manage to fully fill out where the original wearer would have had breasts, but somehow, his chest still feels tight when he reaches around to try and do up the zipper anyways. 

There’s a last strand of hope that breaks when once again, the zipper doesn’t go up all the way. He tries to waive it off. He’s a grown fucking man with better things to do than cry over clothing. Besides, picking up the cummerbund and attempting to clasp it around where his waist isn’t so wide is almost impossibly easier. It’s a relief, and Steve sighs out with the feeling of that as he situations the red material to sit more comfortably on his midsection then does the same with the silver belt. 

It’s done. He’s in the dress, and he feels damn good about finally getting here. 

Now that he’s finally _inside,_ he can take a gander at what it looks like on the outside. Hopefully it looks good, because if Bucky laughs for too long, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Pretend to pass out, maybe. 

There’s a mirror in the bathroom that Steve makes his way over to, hands clenched by the sides of his legs where goosebumps are pricking up at the now unfamiliar feeling of the skirt swishing around them. He’s not done anything like this in his new body. 

Sometimes, he still has trouble recognizing himself as being who- _what-_ he sees. What everyone _else_ seems to see him as, some sort of all-American alpha make rather than a man who just wanted to serve best he could. Being big isn’t familiar, even after nine months. Neither is being Captain America. 

Standing in front of the glass above their suite’s sink, though, that’s not the sight that has him staring. There are still stars and stripes involved but, no, _Captain America_ isn’t what he’s seeing here. Not even close. What he’s seeing instead is Steve Rogers in a dress, no longer sickly or skinny, but still stubborn enough to go out and give his guy the best he’s got. Star spangled getup or not, he always knows that’s what he’s going to do. 

The skirt is as short on him as he’d suspected it would be, but the contrast of the white and blue over top his skin still looks nice, even if the actual design of the dress itself is a bit awkwardly ill fitting. It doesn’t look _bad_ by any means- a little bit the opposite, actually. Even without the contributing factor of him going commando, the way he looks alone has him appearing practically indecent- but still, decent enough for his nerves to die down enough for him to settle the butterflies in his stomach. 

His legs look nice even without the hose the showgirls stuck to wearing, his waist extra trim with the contrast of the red cummerbund and sparkling silver belt against the rest of the dress. The slight line of where his chest curves out is visible through the low neckline of the top. He can see the blush spreading further down beneath it the longer he stares. 

_Pretty_ isn’t a word he’d often use to describe himself, but…. the dress is pretty. It makes _him_ feel pretty, too, and he smooths down his skirt’s pleats with a small smile. So what he couldn’t get the back all the way zipped up? Bucky was right. The front looks good enough.

Although he’d also once stolen some poor unsuspecting girl’s helmet on his way to save the 107th (a fact he doesn’t feel _that_ bad for seeing that as far as he knows the USO girls stopped touring once they lost their star of the show to help sell bonds), he doesn’t have it here with him today. It’s somewhere back among his belongings in the tent, he thinks, but it hasn’t seen much use now that Howard helped provide him with something a bit more sturdy to wear. Because of this, the only thing Steve has to sport on top of his head today is his hair. 

He tries to fluff up the center then smooth out the sides best he can, taking a few more moments to lean closer study himself in the mirror before straightening back up and taking in a deep breath that has him squaring his shoulders. He slumps them back down on the exhale and shuts his eyes, taking another ten second to try and sap up the courage to turn and open up Bucky’s bedroom door. 

He can do this. He’s done harder before. Hell, he’s done _similar_ things before, just… not so much since the serum. Bucky likes him even though he’s big, but who’s to say he’ll like _this?_

Well. Technically Bucky said so himself yesterday during the debacle with the raincoat, but even with as much as Steve trusts him, sometimes his word is hard to go off of on its own. He believes him, but he still needs to _see_ it before that belief fully sinks in first. And seeing that though can’t happen while Steve is still standing behind a closed door. 

He opens his eyes back up and gives himself one last final affirming nod in the mirror to make sure he’s ready. He is. He’s a big boy, even if it isn’t his birthday they’re celebrating. 

Waiting outside is the man they are. Steve’s hands are so sweaty they slip when he goes to grip the door handle, and he feels so unsure about just stepping out silently that he feels like he has to say _something_ to let Bucky know he’s coming. So, he does. 

“Buck?” he calls, hopefully quiet enough so that anyone in the hallways won’t catch it. 

Bucky still does, and he sounds somehow already amused, and apparently already knows what Steve is going to say. “Come on out, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready.”

Steve’s really not so sure he is, but he takes the cue anyways. The bathroom door creaks open a moment later, and as nervous as Steve is, the first thing his eyes land on is the man he has waiting for him on the bed. He’s beautiful. 

Bucky is still wearing his dress uniform, evidently not having chosen to change past taking off his coat and shoes Steve can see beside the door. His tie is loosened too, and as Steve steps closer, he sits up on his haunches and crawls to the end of the bed so that when Steve is close enough, he can loop the fabric around his neck instead and use it to pull him in for a kiss that he leads as confidently as ever. Steve lets out a sound that’s close to a moan, a testament to how worked up they both must have gotten while stuck waiting. 

They don’t have to wait anymore, and like Steve said- he’s not going to argue if Bucky wants to get right to it, no matter how red he gets when Bucky leans back and takes in his first long look at Steve laid out like Christmas morning by the end of the bed. Or would it be more appropriate to say _birthday morning?_ Steve doesn’t suppose it matters, not when he has the man he loves looking at him like he wants to eat him right up. 

He’s nervous, but right now it’s less about insecurity and more about Bucky being the predator and Steve his more than willing prey. Steve might end up being the one on top tonight, but that still doesn’t mean he’s in _charge_ \- and with how loopy he’s gone from Bucky leading him around just a little… their preferences don't change even when the positions do, at least when it comes to Bucky always pushing him around. 

Bucky does that now, settling back even more with one hand still on his tie hanging around Steve’s neck over the halter top. He only lets it go to spin his finger and throw Steve a twinkling grin. “You gonna gimme a twirl, sunshine?”

Steve groans and gives him a look, but it’s lighthearted. Bucky’s the birthday boy. Steve will do what he wants (would do that anyways) even if he is still kinda sore at the idea of Bucky seeing where the zipper is busted open in the back. But he’ll be seeing it eventually anyways, so Steve steps away and does a slightly embarrassed spin up on the toes of his feet that are no longer flat. 

It feels pretty dumb. But Bucky watches him do it like the cat that got the cream, and by the time Steve spins back to face him, he’s got his mouth half open and his hand rubbing at the front of where the crotch of his slacks have stretched tight. Steve feels slightly dizzy from the twirl, and that only gets worse when Bucky drawls out one of his infamously dirty remarks without even giving Steve the time to make it right ways back up. 

“You’re sure wearing a lot of white for someone whose virginity I took when I was twenty,” he says lowly, eyes half lidded. “That a sign I need to remind you or something?” He gets up off the bed, and Steve feels so caught up in his stare that he barely registers the movement until Bucky is pulling the tie tight around his neck again and covering his mouth with his own. It’s not a long kiss, but they’re both out of breath by the time they part, and Steve is already so strung out he has to gasp out an answer. 

He shouldn’t sound so shy when he’s already in such a vulnerable state- dolled up in a dress with Bucky’s tie looped around his neck like he’s trying to make sure he doesn’t run off, dick already perked up enough to push at the pseudo-petticoat of his skirt- but he does. Although he isn’t small anymore, he’s still not good at asking for things, especially not things like this. “Actually, tonight I was…” He swallows and tries again, fingers tightening on Bucky’s shoulders. “I was wondering if you’d want me to…” 

“If I’d want you to what?” Bucky asks, but his voice is knowing. It drops down to a murmur when he uses the hand not on the tie to tilt Steve’s chin up and make their eyes meet. “If I’d want you to fuck me, sweet thing? Is that what you were trying to get up the guts to ask?” And now he’s _teasing?_ the asshole. But the answer is still yes, that’s exactly what Steve was trying to ask. 

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, settling slightly at the way Bucky’s eyes crinkle up in a smile after. “That.”

Bucky doesn’t look adverse to the idea, licking his lips and then getting close enough to ghost over Steve’s as well, sealing them together in a second kiss that he mumbles into when he speaks. “Don’t know how I could say no when you ask so nice,” he says, nudging Steve so that the backs of his shins are pressed against the edge of the bed. “You want to take care of me, huh? Let me have my fill?” He grins, and gives Steve a push that isn’t even _strong_ but has him stumbling back to land on the mattress anyways. “You want that fill to be you?”

Steve is sure his face has gone as red as what’s around his waist, but he manages a nod and tiny, slightly strangled sound of agreement. _“Yeah.”_

It’s the truth- he might prefer being on the bottom, but it’s not like he can’t enjoy both. And while he _has_ harbored some conflicting feelings about what it would mean for him to be on top in this big new body, all of that melts away with Bucky here to help him see. So much is different, but this is the same. They’re still the same, and him being on top when he’s big does nothing to change what they both already know, even if learning how to navigate switching it up after the serum is going to take some getting used to. 

Even without the tie, Bucky will help lead him. Bucky has always helped show him the way even now that _Steve_ is supposed to be the one leading the charge. That’s out there, though. That’s _Captain America._ In here, all that melts away and all Steve can see is Bucky, as brave and beautiful as ever. 

Bucky, who is up above where Steve is lying flat on his back. Steve frowns, and tries to keep his head from going too fuzzy. This feels backwards. 

Something akin to confusion must show on his face, because a second later Bucky is laughing and using a hand to smooth up his leg until he has his palm resting on pale skin partially obscured by a pleat. 

“Let me have a little fun first, yeah?” He leans down to connect their lips and stays that way while he continues. “You’re still gonna get to fuck me, but I still wanna open you up on my fingers. Make you get all riled up while you pound your old man into the mattress.” He slides his hand up further, the other fitting in Steve’s hair and leaving the tie to lay across one of the stars on his lapel. “You still gonna be able to get the job done if you're busy wishing you were having what you’re gonna be giving me?”

Steve lets out a soft noise when Bucky’s fingers touch at the soft skin where the crease of his thigh meets his hip. It’s so close to where he wants it most, but knowing Bucky- Steve’s not getting anything until he answers. So, giving his best shot at pulling himself together, he does. “Today’s supposed to be about _you,_ Buck.” 

It’s not a no, and they both know it. Bucky laughs again and trails his fingers a little higher. “Consider this something self indulgent, then.” He leers and tightens the hand he has in Steve’s hair enough to have him twitching his hips at the sting. He’s always liked a bit of sour with his sweet. As for what _Bucky_ likes- “Besides, what better way is there to spend my birthday than getting my guy to go all sweet ‘cause he wants something inside him even when he’s inside _me?”_

Jesus. Bucky’s got Steve’s nerves feeling all jumbled back up talking this kind of filth. He won’t say it out loud, but it’s sort of Steve’s favorite. He says something else out loud instead, soft and a little bit bashful. “I mean, I’m not gonna say no…”

“Never do when this is what I’m offering.” Bucky pinches at his thigh with a wink, snorting when Steve lets out an indignant sound and then makes a face as he steps away to leave him on the bed. “I gotta get the slick, sweetheart. You just lay there and look pretty.”

Steve’s still annoyed about the pinch, but the praise makes him preen for a second instead. “You like the dress then, I take it?” He hopes he doesn’t sound as eager for approval as he’s feeling inside. He’s never been one to get beaten down by what other people think of him, but- this is Bucky, and it’s different. He’d rather get called a runt again than have Bucky say he doesn’t like the way he looks like this. 

Bucky, who is still bent over to fetch his container of Vaseline and a condom from his bag, gives Steve an exasperated look from over his shoulder. “I can’t tell if you’re _really_ that thick or if you're just fishing for compliments,” he says good naturedly. “You look amazing. Best present I’ve ever gotten.”

Steve goes soft when Bucky looks at him the same way, shifting further up on the bed and spreading his legs so Bucky can settle between them, shirt now half undone and being shrugged off so that his skin presses against Steve’s own when he ducks down and presses a kiss to his sternum between the stars adorning both sides of his chest. Steve’s not sure that line about being his _best present_ is true (that prize might have to go to his precious pinstriped suit), but he isn’t going to protest it even if it is a lie. At the end of the day, he still knows he’s at least Bucky’s best _guy._

“I felt kinda ridiculous putting it on,” he says quietly, because that _is_ true. “But I’m glad you like it.”

Bucky looks at him like he’s said something as equally ridiculous, rolling to lay beside him propped up on an elbow while lubing up his fingers. “Steve, if it’s coming from you, of course I’m gonna like it. I’ll like it because it comes from someone I _love_.” Then, trailing the fingers of his dry hand to slip under the lapel covering Steve’s left pec, “And believe me, you pull off this dress better than any dame or USO girl in the world. Whoever decided not to make one actually meant for you is a damn fool.”

That’s a fantastical claim, but Steve doesn’t fight it. Instead, he settles back with a sigh and lolls his head to the side to watch Bucky’s face as he brings his hand up over his leg from beside him to lower between Steve’s thighs. Steve helps out on his own end by spreading them wider and hiking up the skirt enough for Bucky to see just how affected he is underneath it, shyness set to the side in favor of letting Bucky see the show Steve is doing his best to put on. 

His cock peeks out, precome shiny at the tip. There’s probably a wet spot on the petticoat, but that’s not the wetness Steve is concentrating on when Bucky finally circles his fingers around his rim and slides the first of them into his body. It burns a bit. They haven’t had the time nor privacy to properly do this in weeks, so Steve savors every second. Bucky must be doing the same, because his eyes don’t move from where his fingers are dipped inside Steve, moving slowly in and out at such a slow pace Steve can’t help but rock his hips down to meet them. He wants more _._

Bucky doesn’t make him wait for too long, but Steve knows this isn’t about satisfaction so much as getting him worked up so he’ll be hazy with it while Bucky lets him fuck him. As if he isn’t already clumsy enough in this too big body, let alone this syrupy state of mind. Bucky’s got him read like a book. He knows exactly what he’s doing to him. Steve hopes he’ll never stop. 

Unfortunately, he does stop. It’s another almost ten minutes of slowly added in fingers and Steve desperately trying to chase the arousal pooling in his stomach, but as hard as he’s trying to stay silent, stay _still-_ eventually he breaks. 

His back arches up when Bucky just barely grazes his sweet spot, one arm bent behind their heads to pet Steve's hair while the other works to take him apart. Bucky’s mouth is busy biting at Steve’s neck, but Steve’s is free to open up and moan. Bucky just laughs into his skin, stubble scraping over where it’s gone sensitive with the slide of Bucky’s lips. Everything right now feels sensitive, especially his cock, which Bucky has been thoroughly annoying. 

Steve tries to stave it off, but Bucky’s a damn tease, and they both know he has a soft spot for hearing Steve ask for something sweet in the way he never would otherwise in the outside world. “Buck,” he croaks out. He tries again. “ _Buck.”_

Bucky just hums, not a tune, but in the timbre he always does when he’s happy. “What is it, baby?”

Eyes shut, Steve swallows and tries again to speak in a voice that might be laughably small for someone of his size. No one’s laughing here, though. “Please,” he says softly. “ _Please.”_

Bucky knows how much trust it takes for him to say that. Asking is one thing, but _please_ \- please is another. Please isn’t just asking for help, please is asking for permission, that’s something Steve has never _ever_ done for anyone else but Bucky. He takes that trust in stride, shushing Steve with a kiss pressed this time to the corner of his mouth and fingers that curl in immediately after. Steve cries out and Bucky shushes him again. 

“I’ve got you, Stevie,” he murmurs, and then his fingers are twisting in a way that Steve knows means he’s about to take them out. “I’ve got you.” He does, but Steve still grunts out in discomfort when he’s left suddenly empty, feeling needy for it despite the fact it’s only just not been taken away. Bucky laughs and uses the remaining slick on his hand to stroke over Steve’s cock a single time, but it’s still enough for it to twitch even after the touch is gone. “Yeah, I knew that’d get you dumb for it.”

Steve grunts again, this time with a glare that comes out through bleary eyes and a slow blink. “I’m not _dumb,_ Barnes. You’re the one always thinking with your dick.”

Bucky snorts and yanks on Steve’s hair as if to scold him. “Says the guy about to stick his in me.”

Coloring, Steve turns to press his face into the sheets so Bucky can’t see his expression, even though he knows he can see how red the rest of his face is. This whole stars and spangles shtick is sticking more places than he’d planned. “You said I could.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Bucky muses. Then, tossing the slick onto Steve’s stomach where his skirt is bunched up over the cummerbund, “Well, you better get a move on before I change my mind about what I’ll let you take.” He lays down and looks at Steve expectantly, pants still on but legs spread like he’s planning on making _Steve_ take them off. 

Huffing, Steve sits up and moves to do just that, still feeling uncomfortably empty the entire time. The serum’s sensitivity is something else. “I’m not taking, Buck,” he says quietly, fingers quick and clumsy while working to take his belt off and pant button apart. “Not today.” _Not ever._ “I’m just trying to give you your present.”

Bucky kicks out of his pants and shorts after Steve pulls them down, cock springing up to smack on his stomach and the dark thatch of hair that trails down above it. It’s distracting enough for Steve to have to drag his eyes away when Bucky answers. 

“Is my present that getup you’re in or you asking to be on top for once?” Bucky says lightly, grinning at the flustered look Steve gives him and holding up a lazy hand to halt the response Steve wasn’t even ready to give. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. It’s a hell of a good time either way.”

As Steve’s scooping his fingers into the Vaseline, Bucky reaches over and grabs the discarded tie from where Steve had been laying, looping it back around Steve’s neck when he leans down to see what he’s doing. He’s not quite as used to doing this part of the process on someone else as he is himself, but as usual, Bucky helps lead the way. Literally, with how he uses the tie to pull Steve in. 

“You gonna use your fingers to make me feel as good as you do?” he says, low and like he knows exactly how out of his element Steve is feeling. Everything new in this body is like his first times all over again. “Bet you’re feeling real empty right now. Gonna feel jealous when I tell you to fill me up?”

Steve wants to whimper. Jesus. This is still about Bucky’s birthday, but _yes,_ he feels a bit empty, a bit cluttered and confused. He isn’t as used to _doing_ the fucking in this situation. “Just wanna take care of you too, Buck,” he tells him quietly, fingers now wet but still hesitant to work their way inside like Bucky’s had with him. “‘S your birthday.”

“So it is,” Bucky says roughly, well muscled thighs canting further apart as if to draw Steve in. “C'mon, babydoll. Get to it.” He must see Steve’s apprehension written across his face, because his own softens a second later and he tugs on the tie again as if to let Steve know he’s still the one taking control. “Just like you do for yourself,” he reminds him gently, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze with his hand opposite to where Steve is curled up next to his chest in the same position Bucky had been in to do this, only holding himself smaller. “Nothing but a different angle.”

Steve nods. He knows he’s right, it’s just- again, it’s a lot different doing things in this body. Takes some time to get settled into it. “You ready for me to…?” 

“I just said to get to it,” Bucky points out, clearly poking fun to lighten Steve’s nerves. “I’m ready whenever you are, big guy. Give me what you’ve got.”

Bringing down the first pad of his fingers to rub over Bucky’s rim, Steve obeys the order, tracking Bucky’s response the entire time. It’s positive, Bucky stroking over his cock and letting out a low groan as Steve slips the first fingers inside and tentatively thrusts in search of the spot that always makes _him_ feel stars when Bucky strokes over it. He hopes for Bucky it’ll do the same, and when he finally finds it after Bucky grunts and gives him an affirming nod to add in the second finger, it’s clear that it does. Bucky closes his eyes and lets out a long exhale, hand quickening over his cock. Steve wants to touch his own just as bad, but refrains. He’ll get to feeling good when Bucky is ready to let him. 

Another finger and five minutes later, Bucky rasps out permission for Steve to pull his fingers out and roll the condom on. “Go on and get that pretty dick in me,” he says after, and Steve's entire _body_ feels like it clenches up at the command in his tone. It’s surer sounding than anything Steve has ever said in the field. “You fuck me good enough and maybe I’ll eat you out after, make you come from feeling good on both ends.” His grin goes cocky as it comes out, eyes fixed on Steve fumbling the condom on. “You’ll get your fill after I get mine. After all, what’s a birthday without eating cake?” 

Steve groans, a sound that goes higher when Bucky takes the tie back in hand to pull him down and pinch at his nipple where they’re still hidden under the blue lapels of his dress. “Buck…”

Bucky ignores him, rubbing at Steve’s chest while looking thoughtful instead. “I prefer cream filled, but… vanilla is good too.” He’s very clearly referring to the color of Steve’s dress, white as the icing on the cakes he used to get when he was younger. 

Steve’s skin ends up coloring pink, and he’s so hot under his low-cut collar he could die. “Bucky!”

“Stevie!” Bucky teases back, same as he always does when Steve says his name in a manner that’s either scandalized or surprised, or sometimes both. “You got the condom on?”

Steve nods, fingers clenched down at the base of himself. Bucky showered last night, so they really could skip this step, but Bucky doesn’t like being messy. That’s one of the reasons he doesn’t prefer to be on the bottom in the first place. “I’m good to go,” he says softly. Then, shyer, now that they’re approaching the time to start, “What way do you want it?”

Smile going wicked as the words that follow, Bucky remains on his back but yanks Steve around by the tie so that he’s knelt between his legs, stars, stripes, skirt and all. “ _My way.”_

That hits Steve like a punch to the gut, and he goes so weak at it that positioning his cock where he knows Bucky wants it ends up being done clumsily enough for him to blush. Soon enough though, he’s pushing in with success, even if it’s just the tip. Bucky hisses a bit around the stretch, but it’s only another ten seconds before he’s running his trap yet again, bossy bastard even from the bottom. 

“Get down here and give me the rest of my gift, sweetheart,” he says, rough and rasped out. “It’s good. _You’re_ good, now c’mon and _fuck me.”_

It’s the exact boost of confidence Steve needed, delivered in form of a command so charged it has him halfway collapsing, going down just the way Bucky wanted in both body and mind. The position, aside from the switch in who’s being penetrated, is nothing too special- just missionary, but sex is _always_ special with Bucky, birthday or not. Steve makes sure to tuck his hands between Bucky’s sides and biceps rather than outside them so Bucky can still touch his hair and cup over his face without feeling trapped. Personally, Steve likes that, prefers it even. But after all the torture (and even before) Bucky doesn’t. 

Makes him feel caged in, Steve knows, even if he won’t say so. Reminds him too much of being strapped down, which is half of why Steve hasn’t asked or even _wanted_ to do this since before they left Brooklyn. He doesn’t think Bucky would have liked it, and he has his limits too. Feeling like he’s forcing Bucky into something genuinely uncomfortable is one of them. 

There’s no real discomfort here, though, not once Steve fully seats his dick inside him after going painfully slow during the process. Well, that’s not completely true. There’s a slight discomfort on Steve’s end, but that’s more about being strung out and empty than it is wanting to stop. Steve doesn’t want to stop. They haven’t even really gotten started. 

Plus, the denial is part of the power trip that makes Bucky still like this. He knows he’s still in control, and strung out like this, Steve does too. He gets pliant knowing he’s giving Bucky what he wants. Bucky gets possessive knowing he has not only just Steve’s trust and love, but his frustration and submission too. It’s a trade on both ends. It’s both of them taking care of each other in their own ways, just like the rest of their relationship. 

And just like the rest of their relationship, even when Bucky isn’t on the top, he’s still a goddamn tease. “You going all topsy turvy on me, sweetheart?” He looks up and then down between them to where Steve is still yet to move, still caught up in his own head with what he’s about to do. As if Bucky doesn’t like that. It’s always amusing to him when he sees Steve get so clumsy and cluttered up with emotion just because Bucky is _choosing_ to let him inside. He’s made the annoying habit of pointing it out every time, too, which is exactly what he’s doing now. “Don’t act like you got all dressed up with nowhere to go.” He hooks his legs behind Steve’s back and pulls him closer inside. “Nothing to _do.”_

He’s laid out on his back acting lazy, but he’s pushy like this too. Power drunk, where Steve feels almost stupid with it. He manages to snark back an answer despite that, even if it comes out a little too soft to be considered truly sarcastic. “This wasn’t exactly the type of service I had in mind when I signed up, Sarge,” he breathes, giving his first tentative thrust forward then back so that Bucky’s next smile comes with his eyes falling shut. 

“As if you don’t outrank me.” His hands move up to cup both sides of Steve’s face while he speaks, gun calluses rough against his cheeks where he’s clean shaven. His thumb hooks into Steve’s mouth and the silky softness on the sides of it. Steve moans around it. Not fifteen minutes ago his other fingers were inside somewhere else, and even though he’s busy driving into Bucky, that doesn’t mean he can’t wish the same for himself. 

Bucky pulls his thumb out and Steve’s words follow it a little too closely to be composed. “Not in here, Buck,” he whispers, moan coming out at the end of that low and throaty when Bucky intentionally clenches around him. The motion is echoed by Steve’s hips twitching forward as he does the same, letting out a sad sound when it brings him only shallow satisfaction. 

Bucky’s awful for working him up like this. He wants to talk about Steve getting all dressed up with nowhere to go, but what about Bucky _opening_ him up with nothing to wait for? 

Laughing, Bucky gives Steve a knowing look and reaches a hand behind Steve’s elbow and between them to get at the dress and drag Steve in by the stupid rhinestone covered belt still circled around his belly. “Don’t be too big for your britches or you’ll be on your back before the night is over, babydoll,” he says, knowing damn well that is _exactly_ what Steve wants. See? Absolutely awful. “Use that big body to make me feel it first and we’ll see about what I _feel_ like letting you get from me later.”

Steve makes a pitiful sound, but Bucky pulls him in by the belt again, and again, and again, until it’s as if he’s halfway helping guide Steve inside every time his hips snap forward. It’s hard to be coordinated when the skirt prevents him from really seeing anything, but he can at least see Bucky’s own arousal, bared and blatant between them where his cock is still resting on his stomach. Bucky sees him looking and laughs again like there’s something _funny._ There isn’t, but Steve welcomes the sound, even if it’s with a slightly hazy glare of irritation. It’s something he feels the need to appreciate every time it comes out. Their conditions over here don’t let them laugh nearly as often as they should. 

Bucky reaches his other hand behind Steve’s elbow to wrap around himself and start to stroke. With both arms hooked around where Steve’s are still tucked against his sides, it’s almost like an odd rendition of a hug, or at least something equally as intimate considering what they’re currently doing. Steve feels close to him, though he supposes that’s the whole point. He feels especially close when Bucky cranes his head up and meets his eyes, pale blue of them burning so strong that Steve feels overheated from more than just the dress dragging over his skin. 

“Kiss me,” Bucky says, and it isn’t a question or command. It’s just a simple statement, one he doesn’t have to put anything behind because they both know Steve doesn’t need a push or permission to do it. Still, Bucky says it again. “Kiss me.”

Surging down with a noise he knows Bucky is later going to say was a whimper, Steve does. Bucky takes the exchange over within a matter of seconds, but that makes the passion Steve’s putting into it no less intense, and it ignites something inside him that has him feeling so _much_ that suddenly he wants to sob for reasons more than just the sensitivity. 

He’s here. Bucky’s here, and they’ve made it over here with him turning one year older, without either of them having died. There’s no way for them to know if they’ll make it another, but Steve hopes… they _have_ to. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if they don’t. 

Right now, though, that isn’t what really matters. He’s taking care of Bucky. Bucky is doing the same for him. Right here, right now, this is where they’ll stay. 

Steve tries not to get too teary eyed, but same as yesterday in the tent, Bucky must see it written across his face, because he kisses him and keeps their mouths close. “It’s my birthday and I get to let you cry if I want to,” he murmurs, same as yesterday again. Only this time, differently from yesterday, Steve actually does. It’s not a breakdown so much as a few tears that slide out when his eyes are squeezed shut tight, but it’s enough for Bucky to shush him and raise both hands back up to hold his face. He doesn’t sound exactly unaffected himself. “Let it out, honey,” he says, voice hoarse. “Let me have it.”

 _You always have me,_ Steve thinks. He always has. Always will. 

He let Bucky have both him _and_ his body, hips working to go harder than before until he’s slamming his way home and hitting Bucky’s sweet spot with every thrust while Bucky’s cock sticks wet at the tip to the fabric bunched between them. It’s good in a different way than Steve is used to, and soon enough Bucky is groaning as he lets go of the left side of Steve’s face and brings his hand back down between them to seemingly bring himself over the edge. Steve might be serum sensitive, but for Bucky, being on the bottom alone just isn’t enough. 

His hand helps with that. A few long strokes and Steve going faster is all it takes until his body decides it’s had its fill, his dick twitching under his touch to spill out between them as he comes and clenches around Steve so tight that he can’t help but come too. It’s so sudden and unexpected that he sort of feels like he can’t breathe. This body’s cues are something he’s still getting used to reading, and he doesn’t feel right side back up until he’s being gently turned on his back and Bucky presses on top of him even as the aftershocks still have them reeling. 

By the time they’ve worked their way through, they’re both still having trouble breathing. Steve more than Bucky, but they have all the time in the world to take, so that’s what they do. Bucky doesn’t move and neither does Steve, the both of their bodies still tethered together. The dress is now ruined with it, and Steve, despite the fact he wasn’t the one getting fucked, feels thoroughly debauched. 

When it does come time to move, Bucky is the one who does it first, taking the liberty to let Steve slip out of him by shifting back himself. He grimaces, and Steve, tired as he is, grins. See how Bucky likes sudden emptiness himself. 

Steve isn’t subtle with his smile, so Bucky sees as soon as he’s done chucking the condom and collapses on the bed next to him. There’s come drying on his stomach and the dress, not to mention Steve’s dick, but they stay still for a second while Bucky’s eyes narrow and he uses a lazy hand to tug at Steve’s sex mussed hair. His bangs must have been hanging down when he was up above. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grouches, but it’s good natured. “Hyuk it up.”

Steve doesn’t say anything for a second, but he does let Bucky turn his head to help him undo the halter so he can tug the top down to at least expose his chest. When he does speak, it’s a half hushed whisper. “Happy birthday, Buck,” he says dreamily. “‘D’you like your presents?”

Bucky bends then to kiss him, one hand over his heart where it now beats healthy under his skin. “‘Course I did, sweetheart,” he whispers back. “I loved them.” He kissed him again even sweeter. “I love _you.”_

“Love you back,” Steve sighs. “Love you big.”

Bucky finishes the exchange the way they always do. “Love you bigger.”

There’s a lull after the silence settles where Steve is still loopy, but down to earth enough to sit up and shift to strip his way out of the now sticky dress. He’s still sweaty when it comes off, but Bucky wipes off his chest and his cock with the wet towel he comes back from the bathroom with. Even on his birthday he’s on clean up duty, evidently, but if he complains about that later, Steve is going to have to remind him he _volunteered._ It doesn’t take too long anyways. The cloth joins the dress on the floor, tossed to the side in favor of a cuddle that Steve takes advantage of to curl up close. He buries his face in Bucky’s neck, not planning on moving or speaking anytime soon, but Bucky, as usual, can’t keep his mouth shut for long. 

He talks with his lips against Steve’s hair. “You rescued me with tights on underneath your pants but you didn’t want to wear them today, huh?”

Steve groans but doesn’t lift his head to glare. He’s sure Bucky would just laugh if he did. “I didn’t have time to take them off!” It’s not _his_ fault Peggy had shown up before he could, and he doubts Bucky would be happier if he had dropped his pants on her presence anyways.

Bucky laughs even with Steve’s chin still against his shoulder. “But you had time to steal a dress?” He sounds amused, then mockingly thoughtful. “I guess _you’re_ tight enough for it not to make a difference.”

If Steve weren’t a grown man he would whine at that, but as things are- “You’re awful,” he gripes, but he’s feeling too good still to really pick a fight. Besides, what fun would that be when they still have the rest of Bucky’s birthday to celebrate? It’s barely one in the afternoon. There’s still time to get lunch or go out to a bar later where Steve can use all that military pay to get him some drinks. Maybe Steve can even pretend to go downstairs to ask for some more towels and get Bucky a teacake from the hotel kitchen staff. Put a tiny candle in it to carry out for him sometime tonight. It wouldn’t be much, but they would make do. Don’t they always?

When Bucky starts humming into his hair, Steve knows the answer is yes. He sinks down, planning on drifting for a little while longer, but then- he lifts his head and blinks muzzily at the man he’s currently using as his pillow. “Are you humming _Happy Birthday_ to _yourself?_

Bucky shrugs and gives Steve a pointed look. “I don’t hear anyone _else_ offering to sing it.”

Steve snorts and drops his head back down, speaking half muffled into Bucky’s muscle. “Happy Birthday, Buck,” he says a third time. 

Bucky picks up humming again after that, and that’s how Steve knows that somehow, everything will be okay. 

**Author's Note:**

> i’m really nervous posting this um hello ... comments & kudos are what keeps the content coming, so PLEASE feel free to spare what you can! feedback is my favorite. as usual, i hope you enjoyed. stay safe & see you next time around.


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